And I Am a Material Girl / The Bullpen in the Mist

Life in Kathmandu is incredibly conducive to writing a blog... except if you're going on month 3 as a stay-at-home spouse with no pets, children, vehicle, disposable income, or local language skills. Under those circumstances, you may tend more towards drifting from day to day, trying to figure out exactly how you filled the previous 24 hours.

Fortunately, my luck seems to be changing a bit; just last week, both our household effects and vehicle arrived. I cannot say enough about the impact of having all of our personal belongings - from both our limbo year in DC and our previous life in Boston - tucked neatly away in our home. I'm the sort of person who needs to unpack as quickly and completely as half a pot of coffee and 2 cups of Nepali tea will allow; thankfully, Nick's the sort of person who understands how important that kind of unnecessary, slightly manic activity is to me. We have pots, pans, mugs, plates, measuring cups, books in a bookcase - and in all that time, storage, and shipping, we only lost 2 plates and a mug to less than ideal packing conditions. Personally, I consider that to be within the acceptable margin of error for kitchen casualties, given that their total distance traveled was over 8000 miles.

Regarding the arrival of The Bullpen: Aren't you hiring a driver? They ask. You're going to drive yourself in Kathmandu? They ask. Well let me tell you this: after 2 months of walking 15 minutes, often in monsoon rain (monsoon rain = normal rain in excessive quantities, combined with mud, trash, and whatever else may be on the road - and keep in mind, the city is home to legions of street dogs and a sizable number of street cows) to track down a taxi driver with whom to haggle, all the while praying that he has change, as "ATM money" - as it is commonly known in the States - is completely useless in this situation, driving our own vehicle through throngs of motorbikes, tuk tuks, and oh-my-god-people-actually-ride-on-the-tops-of-those buses has made us happier than we ever could have imagined.

A mountain pass, and bus, falling precipitously away...

Finally having the ability to take to the roads, we ventured out on a little driving excursion this past Saturday, and discovered that only a few moments north of KTM valley is the Land of the Lost. Following a single road that climbed endlessly into the hills, snaking around a mostly-paved mountain pass that rose steeply to one side and fell away precipitously to the other, we were genuinely in awe.

After 10 weeks of city living, we were experiencing what we had long-expected central Asia to be: trickling streams down the sides of the mountain that became waterfalls before our eyes as the mist hurried to become late afternoon rain; 

shining black water buffalo grazing in the precariously terraced rice patties and corn fields;

and a change in elevation so significant that we began well below cloud cover and within 2 hours emerged into clear day, only to find that the valleys below were shrouded so heavily as to create a sense that something ancient and unexpected was lurking around the next blind bend in the road... 

as if our own day and time would be waiting for us upon our eventual descent, but for a single hour above the clouds, we were being allowed into another world.

And apparently, the restaurants in that world serve fresh rainbow trout... maybe next time...

Juxtaposition

Something as simple as a brief walk through the surrounding area can help you understand what Modern Kathmandu is all about...

  The stunningly beautiful, vibrant colors of a small Buddhist temple/monastery. Complete with street dog & motorcycle. 
 (This dog walked right into my shot, then stood still, looking straight at me until I put down my camera. Obviously he found himself of critical importance to my representation of Nepal. I'm bound to agree.)

The Buddhist temple itself, bearing both prayer flags and graffiti. Although I have no way of knowing what the tagger meant by scrawling "Phoenix" on that particular wall, I've chosen to believe it was due to an uncontrollable moment of hope that the tagger - and all of humanity - will rise again in a new existence, possibly one that does not carry the burdens of our current life. (Either that or commiseration with the state of Arizona over the extreme summer heat.)

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This, to me, says Kathmandu. A piece of trash, a post-consumer cob of corn, and wildly growing flowers. No matter how many times I look at it, for me, the flowers dominate, but the trash... it is sometimes sad, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes defiant (don't ask how trash can be defiant, it just can), sometimes it is just what it is - un-self-conscious. 

 A simpler message. Chairman Mao said that religion is the opiate of the masses. However, a house this size flying prayer flags reminds us that spirituality - a gentle acknowledgment that we are part of a larger whole - that belongs to everyone. (And let's face it: we could all use an opiate now and then...)

I know that they're holy. I know they always have the right of way when crossing (or lying in) the street. I did not know it was an option to drag one down the street on a leash. Must not be a Hindu cow?

I set out to take a picture of a field of corn growing just centimeters (no inches allowed in Nepal) from the busiest road in the Valley. Due to the traffic, I tried to get the picture as soon as the truck (stage left) passed by. Unbeknownst to me, the young man on the back of a bicycle (that I could not see because of the truck) saw me & waved at the exact right moment. When I saw this picture, I looked up, and he was turned around on the bike smiling at me. Highlight of my day!

 
Don't know what the ad is for. Don't think country music sensation Taylor Swift knows she's advertising mystery Nepali product in a foreign language. DO think this is the best way to wrap up today's theme. Special note: this banner is almost directly across the street from the Buddhist temple. 

Yes. That's Modern Nepal.

Descent

New York. Frankfurt. Layover. Frankfurt. Doha. Layover. Doha. Kathmandu. The longest 48 hours of my life. I slept about 2 of those hours; I was hallucinating. However, there's no debating that it's all worth it for the last 40 minutes of the last flight from Qatar: the plane is coasting just above the cloud layer, so that you're skimming the tops of them & looking at a blue sky. You look out the window at dawn and swear you see a faint triangular shape just sticking out over the clouds in the distance. As the plane comes more fully into Nepal from India, and you travel along the middle latitude of the country towards the east, the little triangle becomes an 18,000 foot glacial mountain peak. Over the next 30 minutes, you ride just above the clouds only about 40 miles from dozens upon dozens of the most massive, majestic snow-covered peaks imaginable. I was nearly brought to tears. There is a world in the peaks of the Himalayas that is unknown to us here - it is easy to understand why generations of people have believed that the gods dwell in that shocking, surreal place. 

After 2 days of travel, 1 1/2 books, 1 shower, 2 bad movies, 3 episodes of Friends, 3 security checks, 2 tarmac landings, then 5 days of jetlag, I would gladly fly to Nepal again just to witness that scene through the tiny airplane window one more time.

Anniversaries & Departures

Exactly one year ago, Nick & I were en route to Colorado for our honeymoon. Having celebrated our one year anniversary last night, we are in a state of mid-departure for our first State Department tour to Nepal. Preparing to move ourselves and everything we own to the Rooftop of the World ensured that the final week of our first year together was the most stressful yet, but you know what they say - what doesn't kill you makes you glad you have cable. (Oh TBS, I think I'll miss you most of all.) But after spending 3 days systematically piling all of our worldly possessions in our living room & packing, unpacking, and re-packing suitcases to meet the most stringent of weight restrictions, we finally made it to our one and only rest stop: New York, New York. (It's a hell of a town.) While my husband of one full year is off doing diplomatic... things... I'll be hanging with my parents as they train in from CT. Saying goodbye to family & friends has been very difficult (I cried a few times, I won't lie), but we hope the distance makes some hearts grow fonder - at least, enough to come visit us in the land of the Yeti. (Not making any statements for Nick here, but as for me? I believe. Always have, always will.) So, while there are no crazy stories to report, our flight to Nepal by way of Europe & the Middle East may just yield something yet. In the meantime, all is well... especially because they just opened the continental breakfast.